


stories above concrete, x amount of heartbeats

by xylophones



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bad Flirting, Banter, Con Artists, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, Everyone Is Gay, Families of Choice, Flirting, Found Family, Friendship, Getting Together, M/M, Post Case 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26458672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylophones/pseuds/xylophones
Summary: Edamura eyes the ‘Days Since Laurent’s Last Himbo Nonsense’sign on the fridge. The messy five that was written there when Edamura left for work has been wiped out and replaced with a big, fat zero.“What did you do this time?”“Whatever do you mean, my dear Edamame?”Edamura’s gaze flickers to the sign next to Laurent’s Himbo sign, reading ‘Days Since Last Attempted Con’and notes that it has also been reset back to zero.(Four former con artists move in together and attempt to settle into a normal, honest life. What could possibly go wrong?)
Relationships: Edamura Makoto & Abigail Jones, Edamura Makoto & Cynthia Moore, Edamura Makoto & Laurent Thierry, Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 66
Kudos: 778





	stories above concrete, x amount of heartbeats

**Author's Note:**

> hi i watched the entirety of great pretender in one day and now i cannot get domestic found family team confidence out of my head, please enjoy

Edamura is _exhausted_.

Work was hell. Usually he loves working at the local auto repair shop but for some reason nothing went right today. Tools went missing, customers were rude. Edamura was so relieved when five rolled around and he was able to clock out.

He stumbles into a gashapon machine on his way to the station, so of course he has to get one. The little machine spits out a capsule into Edamura’s waiting hands. He pops it open, inspecting the tiny figure of a woman before consulting the little scrap of paper it came with.

“Emily Greene Balch,” Edamura reads out. He shrugs and puts it in his pocket.

He uses his phone to look her up on his way home. The train is packed, but Edamura manages to wrestle his phone out of his pocket, trying not to lose his balance and fall into the lap of the disgruntled old man sitting in the seat next to the handrail Edamura is desperately clinging to. He idly scrolls through her Wikipedia page. Writer, sociologist, activist on behalf of immigrants and juvenile delinquents. Nobel Peace Prize laureate.

Edamura decides he likes her.

The train screeches to a halt at his stop and Edamura manages to barely claw his way out of the crowd, emerging above ground just as the sun sets. From the station, home is only a five minute walk away. They’ve been renting a small town house in the better part of the city for a couple months now. Cynthia recently strung up some twinkly lights on the porch. It really adds to the whole, “honest, wholesome family” vibe they’re trying to go for.

“I’m home,” Edamura calls softly as he opens the front door. He toes off his shoes.

“In the kitchen!”

Edamura comes into the kitchen to find Laurent smiling sweetly at him, seated at the kitchen table. Edamura is immediately on edge.

His eyes dart over to the ‘ _Days Since Laurent’s Last Himbo Nonsense’_ sign on the fridge. The messy five that was written there when Edamura left for work has been wiped out and replaced with a big, fat zero.

He turns to Laurent, who is draped across one of their rickety kitchen chairs, feigning innocence. Edamura narrows his eyes in suspicion.

“What did you do this time?”

“Whatever do you mean, my dear Edamame?”

Edamura’s gaze flickers to the sign next to Laurent’s Himbo sign, reading ‘ _Days Since Last Attempted Con’_ and notes that it has also been reset back to zero.

He sighs and opens the fridge, getting the ingredients for dinner out. Prays to any deity out there that he’ll at least finish cooking before any police officers show up.

No police show up, but Laurent continues to hang around the kitchen, flirting and being a general nuisance, but not actually helping Edamura with dinner. This is how it is most nights and at this point Edamura is too used to it to complain. He’ll just trick him into doing the dishes after they eat.

By the time Edamura is done cooking, Abby and Cynthia have been lured downstairs by the smell of stir fry. They’ve all settled down at the table, ready to eat before Edamura decides he’s emotionally ready to hear about whatever mischief Laurent got up to that day.

“I noticed the himbo sign was reset today,” Edamura starts. “What happened?”

“He tried to seduce one of the plumbers to get a discount on our repair,” Abby says. “Turns out his plumber partner was his _partner_ partner. They were married.”

“I was not trying to _seduce_ him, I was just making friendly, semi-flirty conversation.” Laurent pouts, waving around a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. “Is it so bad that I wanted to get our bill reduced? How was I supposed to know they were married!”

Edamura puts his head in his hands. “We can pay the plumbing bill, Laurent. We have stable jobs. You literally have a million dollars in your bank account.”

“There was no reason to try to seduce the plumber,” Abby adds.

“It wasn’t like I was _really_ trying, more like subtly hinting. A _light_ seduction.”

“Light seduction.” Abby deadpans. “And you wonder why we made you the himbo sign.”

Cynthia chimes in, “I think that calling Laurent a himbo is inaccurate––”

“ _Thank_ you!”

“–– he lacks the ‘nice, respectful’ aura needed to be a himbo.”

“That’s true,” Edamura uses his chopsticks to point at Laurent. “You’re not nice enough to be a himbo. Plus you only _act_ dumb. Himbos are supposed to be nice, dumb, and hot, and you’re not dumb or nice.”

Laurent grins. “So, you think I’m hot, Edamame?”

“I-– _No!_ ” Edamura scrambles to correct his mistake. “No! No, I’m just saying that, like, objectively–– If I cover both my eyes and pretend you’re someone else–– Physically speaking, you’re alright––”

Edamura’s protests are drowned out by the other three’s cackling laughter. Laurent looks especially delighted. Edamura feels his face flush.

“Fuck you guys, see if I cook for you again.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Edamame!”

“You’re gonna cook tomorrow, you giant pushover.”

“You know you love us!”

Unfortunately, Edamura does.

* * *

They’ve been doing this–– the whole honest life, cohabitating thing–– for a while. Or at least, attempting to, with various levels of success. Their last attempt had lasted the longest (six months) but ended with them fleeing Rio with a disgraced oil barron and a couple of broken hearts in their wake. Edamura is determined to get it right this time. He will drag this awful, dysfunctional family into the light if it kills him.

* * *

Since giving up the life of crime, the four of them have had to find other ways to expend their energy. Edamura and Abby throw themselves into work as mechanics at the same garage. It helps that since Singapore they’ve struck up an odd half-friendship, half-sibling-like-rivalry that works pretty well for them on the job. Cynthia takes up a million hobbies in between auditions. Laurent… struggles.

Laurent says it’s hard to put all his mastermind, chaotic genius energy into something that isn’t a con, so he just… _doesn’t_. Mini cons, he calls them. Micro-itty-bitty-harmless-really cons, he calls them. Edamura doesn’t care what he calls them he just wishes they weren’t all specifically engineered to make his life harder.

It starts like this:

Edamura wakes up half an hour late because his alarm doesn’t go off. Weird. He remembers setting it last night, but whatever. His phone is old, it probably just malfunctioned.

Because he’s late he doesn’t have time for breakfast. Or to make himself lunch. This is fine, he’ll just grab something from the nearby taco truck on his lunch break.

Except, it isn’t fine. On his lunch break Edamura is walking towards the parking lot the truck usually parks at, humming an Ed Sheeran song that had been playing on the radio in the garage all day–– something about dancing in the streets? Barcelona?–– when the Tacos El Bronco truck zooms right past him, not turning into the parking lot.

Edamura watches it go, briefly mourning the loss. They have the best cabeza tacos in the city and Edamura has been starving all day. His lunch break isn’t long enough to go anywhere else, so he just hustles back to the shop and hopes to catch Abby on her break. Maybe she’ll pity him and split her lunch.

“Sorry, bean boy,” Abby says with a shrug, “I ate lunch an hour ago. I have some polvorón if you want it.”

Edamura is grumpy for the rest of the day. A customer brings in a Bultaco Linx for work done and Edamura nearly snaps at the guy for hovering around and asking questions. By the time he clocks out he’s starving. There’s a really good phở shop around the corner, maybe for dinner he can––

“ _Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet––!”_

Edamura curses as his phone goes off at full volume, just as he’s leaving the garage. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Abby doubled over in laughter, along with some of their co-workers. At least that answers the question as to who changed his ringtone.

“Hello,” Edamura says curtly.

“ _Edamame, come quick!”_ Cynthia’s voice comes out distressed over the phone speaker.

“What? Cynthia, what’s going on? Where are you?”

“ _Home!_ _It’s an emergency!_ ”

“What’s going––” She hangs up on him.

Edamura sprints to the train station. He’s anxious the whole ride, his mind coming up with a thousand and one scenarios of what could possibly make the usually collected, level-headed Cynthia sound that anxious. He practically tears the front door off its hinges when he gets home.

“Cynthia! I’m here!” Edamura dashes through the entryway.

“Oh, Edamame, thank _god_.” Cynthia appears at the foot of the stairs, looking close to tears. “Tell me, honestly, does this necklace clash with my dress?”

Edamura pauses.

“What?”

“It’s too chunky, isn’t it? I wanted a statement necklace, but maybe this dress requires a more delicate piece.”

Edamura blinks. “Statement… huh? You said it was an emergency.”

“It is! A fashion emergency!”

Big inhale. Slow exhale.

Edamura pinches the bridge of his nose. “Cynthia, I thought you were dying. I thought someone we scammed tracked us down. You know, a _real_ emergency.”

“This _is_ a real emergency, Edamame!” Cynthia blinks her big, brown eyes at him. “I have a really important audition in an hour! I can’t show up looking like a disaster.”

“I’m the least fashionable person you know. I––” Edamura catches movement from the living room. “Laurent’s _right there_ and way better at this than I am!”

“I needed a young person’s opinion.”

“Hey! I’m young!” Laurent protests.

They both ignore him.

Edamura sighs. “Well, I guess I’m here already. The dress and necklace look fine together, I don’t really know. It looks good, you always look good. Conventional attractiveness and beauty standards are a system designed to make people hate themselves and spend money on products made by companies profiting off human suffering. The necklace brings out your eyes.”

“Thank you!” Cynthia crushes him in a hug. “Well, I’m off! I’m gonna kill this audition!”

“You’re welcome!” Edamura calls after her, but the front door’s already swinging shut.

“It really is a beautiful necklace,” Laurent comments.

“Yeah.” Cynthia swiped it off an heiress during a job in Madrid. That was a good con. They used the heiress’s weakness for pretty redheads to bring down her and an underground child fighting ring that she’d been funding. Afterwards, they celebrated at a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant with amazing albondigas and paella.

Edamura’s stomach growls.

“Fuck, I’m hungry,” he says. He eyes Laurent. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet, my little soybean.”

“I’ll cook something.” Edamura heads for the fridge.

Which is… empty. Completely empty.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you! The plumbers came back today, so we had to empty the fridge.”

“Why would we need to empty the fridge for the plumbers?”

Laurent shrugs. “I have no idea, but after how badly I offended them last time I didn’t want to question them.”

Edamura’s stomach growls again. “Alright, I’ll just run to the grocery store and _then_ I’ll cook.”

The grocery run doesn’t take nearly as long as Edamura worried it would. Plus, to his delight, it seems like they’re having some kind of inventory clearing sale. He gets rice and chicken stock for a criminally low price and, after seeing how cheap the fresh seafood was, he decides to make paella. He thinks they probably have a majority of the spices at home anyway.

It’s only half way through cooking that Edamura realizes what kind of watch the guy at the seafood counter was wearing. He stares down at the pot, stunned and a little hurt for a minute. Laurent hums away, seated on the kitchen counter where he’s been keeping Edamura company while he cooks.

“You know, you don’t have to manipulate me,” Edamura says, placing a lid on the pot. “You could have just asked me to cook paella.”

“You already cook for us so much, Edamame. I couldn’t have asked this of you!”

Edamura rolls his eyes. “So, you just ruined my day and tricked me into thinking cooking was my own idea? Just _ask_ next time. I would’ve said yes.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

Edamura opens his mouth to complain about being miserable all day, but then he catches the expression on Laurent’s face. Smug and punchable, yes, but also happy. Satisfied. The face he makes after they’ve managed to pull off one of his schemes perfectly, everything going according to plan.

Edamura decides to let it go. At least he’s getting a good meal out of it.

* * *

One day, Edamura is minding his own business, making himself lunch when the front door slams open.

“I got a job!”

“ _Ah!_ ” Edamura jumps so hard his sandwich goes flying across the kitchen. It lands on the floor with a soft _splat_. “Laurent, you absolute fucking noodle!”

“Sorry!” The door slams shut, then Laurent is bounding into the kitchen.

“I got a job!” Laurent repeats. “You’re looking at East Middleton High’s newest substitute teacher!”

Edamura scoffs. He begins cleaning up. “No way. There’s no way _you_ have teaching credentials.”

“I think you’ll find, dear Edamame, that I am full of surprises.”

“Who did you lie to to get this job? Did you get Kudo to forge documents for you? That counts as a con.”

“I didn’t! I really have a degree in education.”

Laurent pouts. Edamura stares, hard. Laurent pouts more.

“... Really?”

“Yes!”

“Oh,” Edamura sits back, stunned. “That’s kind of cool.”

Laurent beams, pleased.

Edamura stops and considers for a moment.

“You’re going to teach all those kids to be anarchists hell-bent on dismantling society aren’t you?”

“That’s the plan!”

* * *

“Hey, bean bitch.”

Edamura looks up from the engine he’s elbows deep in to see Abby standing before him, hand on her hips.

“If you’re gonna keep calling me names, can you at least not do it at work?” Edamura pulls his hands out of the car and wipes them on a rag. “Everyone’s still making fun of me for the ringtone thing.”

Abby smiles briefly before her face falls back into its default unimpressed expression.

“Switch shifts with me.” It’s not a request.

“Huh?”

“You work full shifts on weekends. I work half shifts on weekdays. Switch with me.”

“Uh, I’m not saying no,” Edamura says cautiously, “but, can I ask why?”

“Classes start soon,” Abby states. She refuses to make eye contact with Edamura, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

“Classes?” Edamura repeats.

“Yeah. At the, uh, community college.”

Edamura blinks. “Classes at the community college?”

Abby scowls, shoulders raising defensively. “Look, can you switch schedules with me or not?”

“Yeah, of course, but Abby,” Edamura smiles, “are you planning on taking classes?”

“Duh, why do you think I’m asking for the shift change.” Abby looks at him like he’s an idiot–– which, to be fair, he is. “For fun? Because I like inconveniencing you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it past you,” Edamura mutters. “But anyway–– that’s great! What are you studying?”

“Psychology.”

Edamura smiles patiently, waiting for her to say more.

“I just–– think it would be cool. To, I don’t know, understand brain stuff. Get a degree or something. One day. Maybe. And, like, help people who are like, you know.”

 _Like me_.

Edamura grins. “I think that’s a really good idea Abby. We can talk to the boss about switching tomorrow.”

“Wipe that smile off your face, soybean. It’s just a couple classes, not like I’m graduating anytime soon.”

“Okay.”

“You’re still smiling, asshole.”

“Whoops.”

“Quit it!”

* * *

Edamura takes Laurent grocery shopping with him exactly once.

It goes smoothly. Honestly, it’s a little fun. Laurent is usually so quick witted and in control. It’s nice to debate soap brands with him. Watch him struggle not to snatch the last onion from an old lady. Wrinkle his nose as the kids running down the cereal aisle.

It’s very domestic. Very… husbandly. Not that they’re husbands–– or that Edamura would even _want_ them to be husbands. No. It’s just nice.

Until they see some asshole harassing one of the cashiers.

He’s obviously their type. Type of target, that is. Expensive suit, entitled expression. He’s practically wearing a neon sign reading _I’m rich and think mistreating service workers is oka_ y. Edamura instantly clocks the AP watch ($23,000 USD) and Louis Vuitton loafers ($1,000 USD, he estimates). The Asshole says something to the cashier implying she should speak better english if she’s going to work here. Edamura clenches his fists.

“No,” Edamura says before Laurent can even open his mouth.

“But he’s being rude to the cashier,” Laurent says, a charming smile still in place as he assesses The Asshole. “The cashier who is just doing her job and probably makes minimum wage.”

“Yes, and he’s a giant asshole and I would _love_ to ruin his life, _but.”_ Edamura begins placing their items onto the check out counter. “ _But,_ we’re not going to plan an elaborate con to drain him of all his assets. We don’t do that anymore, remember?”

“But who, if not us, will deliver swift justice onto that wretch of a man?”

Edamura turns his attention to their own cashier, who is watching Laurent wearily. Edamura offers him an apologetic smile. He goes through the check out process quickly, hoping the cashier isn’t suspicious enough to call the police.

“I just think it’s unfair,” Laurent sniffs, as they exit the supermarket, “to let him get away with treating people like that knowing we have the power to stop him.”

“I never said we were going to do _nothing_.”

Laurent pauses. He looks at Edamura with barely contained glee.

“Oh?”

“Distract him,” is all Edamura says before handing Laurent their groceries and disappearing into the parking lot.

Fifteen minutes later Edamura finds Laurent chatting with The Asshole at the supermarket’s entrance. He oozes charisma and charm, gesticulating wildly as The Asshole nods emphatically. Edamura catches Laurents eye over the guy's shoulder and gives his head a quick jerk to the right.

They meet up again at the entrance to the subway. Laurent hums happily.

“So, Edamame, what havoc did you wreak?”

“Keyed his car.” Edamura reaches for their grocery bags, ignoring the light shiver that runs up his spine when his fingers brush Laurent’s. “And slashed his tires.”

Laurent blinks. Then a pleased smile slowly stretches over his face.

“How petty, Edamame. How did you know which car was his?”

Edamura grins smugly. He reaches into his hoodie pocket and holds up the guy’s keys. “Lifted them on our way out. Hope he has a good time trying to get home today.”

Laurent barks out a laugh. “My _sweet_ , devious little soybean!”

Edamura scowls. “Stop calling me that.”

“I knew you still had it in you, Japan’s Number One Swindler. You can take the man out of the con, but you can’t take the con out of the man. Or—“ Laurent leers, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “— would you like _another_ conman in you?”

Edamura shoves Laurent, face burning. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Only when my mouth is full.” Laurent winks. Edamura gags. “Let’s get something to eat on the way home, courtesy of our new friend.”

Laurent produces a wallet— slick black leather, embossed Gucci logo, and probably worth more than their monthly rent. Formerly belonging to The Asshole, probably.

“Laurent,” Edamura sighs, exasperated, “it’s only not a con if we don’t get paid.”

“I don't know how you came up with that little rule, but regardless, we _didn’t_ get paid,” Laurent argues. He pulls Edamura off the train at the next stop, using his height to cut through the crowd. “We are simply redistributing his wealth. Trickle down economics and all that jazz.”

“That's not how that works,” Edamura mutters, but he follows Laurent anyway.

(Later, bellies full of kebab, Edamura sits across from Laurent and listens as he details out exactly how he would have dismantled The Asshole’s entire life. Their knees knock under the table. Edamura is happy.)

* * *

Edamura manages to hide the cat for a week before he’s found out.

It happens when Cynthia barges into his room, asking for a spare phone charger. Edamura, who has been sneakily changing litter at night and smuggling cat food in his backpack, panics and tries to throw a blanket over the cat peacefully sleeping on his bed.

It doesn’t work. Cynthia sees, and the cat does _not_ enjoy suddenly being drowned in fabric. Edamura sighs and scoops her into his arms, turning to face Cynthia.

“What,” Cynthia says, “is _that_? Where did you get it?”

“ _Her_ name is Lucky,” Edamura corrects. He clutches Lucky to his chest. “I found her on my way home from work.”

Cynthia stares at him for a moment, before calling out, “Laurent! Get over here. Edamura’s picked up your habit of taking home strays.”

Laurent materializes in the doorway to Edamura’s room, Abby in tow. “Strays?”

Cynthia says nothing, gesturing to the cat currently curled up in Edamura’s arms.

“Oh, how _precious_.” Laurent steps forward, making grabby hands. Lucky hisses.

Edamura smirks. Good kitty.

“Her name is Lucky,” Edamura repeats. “Sorry I didn’t tell you guys sooner. I didn’t think you’d let me keep her.”

“I wouldn't have,” Cynthia mutters. “Well, I guess she _is_ pretty cute. Just keep her away from my room and we’ll be okay.”

“She’s _adorable_ , Edamame! Almost as lovely as you.” Laurent reaches for Lucky again, only to have his hand batted away by sharp claws.

Laurent frowns. “Why doesn’t she like me?”

“She takes after me,” Edamura says. Laurent mimes getting shot in the heart.

Abby, who has been observing from the door, steps forward. Her and Lucky regard each other cooly for a moment. Abby raises her hand. Lucky sniffs it. After a moment, Lucky closes her eye and allows Abby to gently pat her head.

“Oh, come _on!_ ” Laurent whines.

“She only has one eye,” Abby says.

“Yeah. She was like that when I found her. The vet said she probably lost it in a fight.”

“That’s badass.”

Edamura sets Lucky down. She winds around his ankles a couple times before trotting over to Laurent. She hisses at him again, but ultimately lets him bend down and stroke her back.

“She pretends to hate Laurent but secretly wants his affection,” Cynthia observes with a knowing smirk. “Sounds familiar.”

She looks directly at Edamura, who pretends not to see.

* * *

“Today,” Edamura announces with a malicious glint in his eyes, “is _tax_ day!”

Cynthia whines. Laurent attempts to escape out the window.

Abby shrugs and grabs a form.

* * *

They don’t go out often but when they do, it’s a disaster.

Big parties and nights out on the town are usually reserved for when another member of Team Confidence is visiting. Otherwise, they prefer to stay in. Abby doesn’t like crowds, Laurent tends to attract attention, and Cynthia likes to just chill in sweatpants on the couch on nights she isn’t working. Edamura figures most 20-somethings like him are out partying, but then again most 20-somethings don’t have a criminal record and aren’t on Interpol’s most wanted list, so. There you go.

But just because they don’t party much doesn’t mean they don’t party at all. They just have to take some… extra precautions.

Cynthia is designated driver for the evening. They usually take public transport home, but through past experience they’ve discovered that the four of them being drunk in close proximity to each other is a recipe for disaster. Someone needs to hold all the braincells for the night, and tonight it’s Cynthia.

The club is all hazy neon lights and thick smoke when they finally get in, shivering from the cold outside. It’s hot inside, too many bodies pressed together all pulsing to the DJ’s beat. Five minutes in and they’ve scattered, Abby to find the quietest corner to get shitfaced in and Cynthia to flirt with the pretty girl in a booth by herself, which leaves Edamura and Laurent. Laurent gestures toward the bar and Edamura, as usual, follows.

What comes next is a blur of shots and barely concealed challenges. Edamura does not have a very high alcohol tolerance, but all he can see in the dark is Laurent’s smirk and he is determined to drink that asshole under the table. Edamura knocks back another shot and catches Laurent looking over his shoulder.

“What?”

“That man over there has been eyeing you for the past half hour,” Laurent says in a low voice.

Edamura doesn’t bother looking away from Laurent. “Not interested.”

Laurent’s gaze snaps back to his face. He smiles, slow and seductive. Edamura can’t bring himself to pretend he isn’t thrilled.

“Of course not.” Laurent leans in, bringing one hand up to cup Edamura’s cheek. “But, my dear, I have an _idea_.”

Edamura knows that even five shots in Laurent’s mastermind brain is sharp enough to come up with the most convoluted, elaborate plans––

“Put this on,” Laurent presses a ring into Edamura’s hand, “and flirt with him when I leave you two alone.”

–– and Edamura is just drunk enough to go along with it.

People know to be wary of Laurent Thierry. They forget that Makoto Edamura is dangerous too.

An hour later Laurent and Edamura are fleeing the club seven thousand dollars richer, down one fake engagement ring, and being pursued by an angry man yelling about how “that Chinese brat and his sugar daddy” scammed him. It takes all of Edamura's self control not to yell back, "I'm Japanese, you dipshit!" 

They duck into a nearby alley, listening as the man runs right past them, still screaming. Thank god he didn’t see them, Edamura thinks he might be too drunk to pull off a proper getaway right now.

“I _hate_ being the honey trap,” Edamura complains, leaning against the brick wall next to Laurent. “I’m so bad at it!”

“You did very well, my little soybean. I thought you would ask for seven hundred, not seven _thousand_.”

“Go big or go home, right? Besides, what–– what kind of dumbass carries around that much cash in the first place?” Edamura stands up straight and begins untucking his shirt to reach the bundles of cash he stashed in his waistband. He catches Laurent looking at him. “What? These jeans are too tight to fit my phone in the pocket, let alone thousands of dollars in cash.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Laurent says, but his eyes are dancing with amusement. Edamura wants to kiss the smugness right off his stupid face.

Fuck, did he say kiss? He meant punch. He’d like to punch… Laurent. Laurent’s mouth. Um. Maybe he’s drunker than he thought.

Edamura finishes retrieving all the money from his person. He deposits it in Laurent’s waiting hands and then promptly collapses against his chest.

“Edamame?”

“Shh, stay still and don’t be an asshole for, like, five minutes. My head is spinning.”

Edamura can hear the frown in Laurent’s voice. “You didn’t have too much, did you? You’re a lightweight, love.”

“I’m not a loveweight,” Edamura mumbles against Laurent’s neck. “Fuck. We need to reset the… the sign. The con sign.”

Laurent’s arms snake around his waist, holding Edamura steady. “Ah, a shame. And we were doing so well, too.”

Edamura snorts. “Yup, twenty days. A new record.”

Laurent giggles into Edamura’s hair. “Your accent is so cute when you’re drunk. Adorable little soybean.”

“‘M not adorable. I’m a–– a femme fatale,” Edamura hiccups. “A threat to rich men everywhere. Look out.”

“Sure you are, sweetheart.” Edamura closes his eyes. He can feel Laurent fumbling with something behind his back, then one of his arms untangles itself from Edamura’s waist and lifts up to Laurent’s face.

“Hello? Cynthia?”

“She’s not here, Laurent….” Oh, wait. Oh, he’s on the phone. That makes sense.

“Mhmm… yeah, he’s very drunk. Also we’re holding seven thousand dollars in cash. I’ll tell you the story on the way home, just come get us. We’re–– no, it wasn’t my idea. Okay, it was. Just come to the alley to the left of the entrance, okay? Bye.”

“Bye, Cynthia,” Edamura calls from where he’s still burrowed in Laurent’s chest.

In the morning, Edamura will probably hate himself for falling into another one of Laurent’s schemes. For now, he listens to Laurent’s heartbeat and waits for Cynthia to come take them home.

* * *

Edamura hasn’t been back to Japan in a long time. He has nothing left for him there, but he does miss home a lot.

One of his fondest memories is going for a _hanami_ picnic with his parents. He remembers how the cherry blossoms hung on the branches, heavy pink clouds against a pale blue sky. They drifted down around him like something out of a movie, perfect blush colored petals floating through the air. His mom had some caught in her hair, but neither he nor his dad told her. She looked beautiful, all radiant smiles and warm hands. A crown of cherry blossoms in her hair.

It was one of the last times the three of them had been together, as a family. His dad was arrested a few weeks later.

It’s Thursday, August 13th, when Edamura leaves the house quietly at the break of dawn. He spends a long time just wandering the city, watching people pass. No one pays him any mind. It’s always been easy for him to slip through a crowd unnoticed. Good for being a swindler. Not that Edamura needs to be good at disappearing anymore.

He goes to the library. He goes to the park. He sits in a crowded coffee shop at noon until the rush dies down and it’s just him and a couple of students working on papers. He rides the train, making up stories in his head about the other passengers. The couple in the seats by the door are on their way to visit one of their parents, but one of them secretly hates her in-laws. The teens across from him are caught in a dramatic love triangle because one of them dumped the other for the third. The old woman in the back was a spy back in the day but she settled down to marry the love of her life.

Edamura gets off on a random stop and continues wandering. He finds himself by a river. The sun sits low on the horizon, blazing impossibly orange and casting light over the water. Birds ride the breeze, swooping and diving along the waterline.

Edamura takes in the sight. He thinks here is as good a place as any.

It’s not a grave, but Edamura kneels by the river bank. He cleans a small patch of the concrete in front of him, brushing away candy wrappers and cigarette butts. He carefully lays out the chrysanthemums he bought at a flower shop along the way. The yellow starburst petals stand out against the drab grey concrete, looking vibrant and alive even as they lay against the pockmarked, scuffed ground.

Edamura reaches into his backpack and pulls out a plastic cup. He uses it to hold a bundle of incense, which he lights with a lighter stolen from Cynthia. The smoke wafts upwards, perfuming the air around him in a heavy haze. He sits back on his heels for a moment, eyes closed.

More items are pulled out of his backpack: his mom’s favorite soda, a pack of fuwarinka beauty rose candy, a can of coffee for himself. A cat figurine.

He doesn’t pray. None of this is very close to tradition anyway, but he figures it’s the thought that counts.

“ _Okaa-san_ ,” Edamura whispers.

He finishes his coffee as the sun disappears behind the horizon, leaving behind a saturated wash of color. The river water laps at the bank. The incense burns out. Edamura tries very hard not to think about whether or not his mom would be proud of him. He cleans up slowly, placing the soda and candy back in his backpack. The cat figurine goes in carefully, wrapped in an old cloth. As he’s gathering up the incense to throw away, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

**Manipulative Asshole**

[7:32 PM] edamameeeeee 🥺

[7:32 PM] where are you my little soybean

[7:32 PM] you’ve been gone all day

[7:32 PM] 😞

[7:32 PM] don’t tell me you’ve decided to elope with that coworker you’re always talking about

[7:33 PM] i called dibs on you years ago!! 😤

Edamura snorts. Just as he’s about to reply, he gets two more texts.

**Abby**

[7:33 PM] Laurent’s convinced you’ve been kidnaped and he’s being really annoying about it. you better come home soon.

**(sin)thia**

[7:33 PM] Edamame, are you heading home soon? –– xoxo Cynthia

Maybe Edamura isn’t sure his mom would be proud of him, but he at least knows she’d be glad he has people looking out for him. Edamura finishes cleaning up and starts on the way home. He decides to text their house group chat instead of replying to them all individually.

**co-CONspirators 💸💰💎**

**Green Bean**

I’m on my way home [7:34 PM]

I’ll cook tonight. I’m stopping by the grocery

store if anyone needs anything. [7:34 PM]

**Manipulative Asshole**

[7:34 PM] edamame!!! you’re alive !! 😊🥰

[7:34 PM] i don’t need anything but your love 💕😘

[7:34 PM] (also we are out of milk)

**(sin)thia**

[7:34 PM] We also need more eggs –– xoxo Cynthia

[7:34 PM] Thank you for cooking, Edamame! –– xoxo Cynthia

**Abby**

[7:35 PM] watching you two boomers text gives me a headache

[7:35 PM] what are you cooking

**Green Bean**

Katsudon [7:35 PM]

You’ll like it, I promise [7:35 PM]

It’s my mom’s recipe [7:35 PM]

* * *

“Edamame,” Laurent sing-songs. “What are you doing?”

Edamura looks up from his Switch to see Laurent leaning against the doorway to his room, an expensive silk shirt tucked into his slim fit pants, looking devastatingly attractive as always. Edamura immediately looks for an escape route. He knew leaving his door open was a bad idea.

“Playing a game.” Edamura looks away from Laurent. He is _not_ attracted to his dumb, asshole housemate. He is _not._

“A game?”

“Animal Crossing.”

“Animal Crossing?”

Edamura sighs and accepts that Laurent won’t just go away.

“It’s a really popular game, look,” Edamura gestures for Laurent to sit down and leans over so he can show him the screen. “You’re a person–– see that guy that’s running around is me–– and you live on an island and all your neighbors are animals. You can like catch fish and bugs or grow flowers or upgrade your house. It’s really fun.”

Laurent leans closer, shoulder pressed against Edamura. “Why are you a human when everyone else is an animal? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s just how the game is. Look,” Edamura makes his character talk to a nearby sheep. “This is Dom. He’s my favorite.”

Edamura goes through a conversation, cooing at the pre programmed responses. So what, he likes talking to his computer generated friends. It’s not weird. That’s literally part of the game.

When he looks up, Laurent is scowling at the screen.

“Why is he flirting with you?”

“He’s not–– what?” Edamura tries to see how Laurent could misconstrue the very pleasant conversation about fruit to flirting.

“Look, he’s even giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes,” Laurent gestures to the screen where Dom is displaying the _delight_ emote, cartoon flowers floating around his head. “That’s kinda gross. Isn’t he a sheep? You’re a person. Didn’t think you were a furry, Edamame.”

“ _I’m not a––_! Ugh, nevermind. It’s a fun game, I’m sure you’d like it if you played it. Here, I’ll even set up an account for you, try it out.”

Laurent remains weary as Edamura guides him through the starting tutorial. Eventually, he has to leave for work. He leaves Laurent with the gaming console and a parting, “Don’t get too addicted.”

A week later, Laurent has exploited a bug in the game and now has a filthy amount of money in his in-game bank account, all home loans paid off, and a perfectly curated list of villagers on his island. Edamura finds out later that he did this by talking to people on the game’s online forum and charming them into letting his desired villagers move onto his island.

“You know, we technically share this island.” Edamura watches Laurent welcome a cat villager into his new home. “Don’t I get some say in this?”

“Oh, my sweet green bean, you relinquished control the moment you handed this device over to me.” Laurent flashes him a winsome grin. “You were right! I love this game! Even the capitalist racoon is charming.”

Edamura explodes. “Tom Nook is _not_ a capitalist, he’s a hard working single guardian of two, _how dare you––!_ ”

* * *

“Do Edamame and I get to kiss now?”

“I’m reading for Mercutio and you’re reading for Benvolio. Our characters don’t kiss.”

“But they _should_.”

“Stop it! We’re doing this to help Cynthia!”

Cynthia watches them bicker with an amused smile on her face. She steps in right as Edamura is weighing the pros and cons of throwing Laurent out the window.

“While I appreciate the help, boys, I think we’re done here.” She claps a hand on both of their shoulders steering them out of her room. “Thank you, but I need some time alone with the script now. I really need to feel out my character, you know?”

“Right.” Edamura nods. “Let us know if you need anything!”

Edamura is smiling even as Cynthia shuts the door in their faces. Every time she lands a new role Edamura can’t help but be excited. It doesn’t matter how big or small the part, whether it’s in the community theatre production or a local commercial. It makes Cynthia happy which makes the rest of them happy.

“She really is an amazing actress,” Edamura thinks out loud. He wanders down the hall into his own room, Laurent following behind him like a shadow. He scoops Lucky up into his arms, settling onto his bed with the cat comfortably nestled in his lap. Laurent smiles at the two of them for a moment before settling into Edamura’s desk chair.

“If we weren’t trying to lay low there’s no doubt in my mind that she’d be the next big Hollywood actress,” Laurent says.

Edamura hums in agreement. “Abby’s doing well in class, too. She was so stressed about midterms a couple days ago, but she pulled through.”

“Our little star student,” Laurent chuckles fondly.

“Ugh, you really do sound like a teacher, gross.” Edamura’s smile fades a bit. “All of you are doing so well… I’m glad.”

They’re really settling into honest living–– which is good! Don’t get him wrong, this is exactly what Edamura wanted when he sat down to convince them all to give up being con artists. It’s just… it feels like Edamura hasn’t changed at all. He’s always just been treading water, struggling just to keep his head above the waves. He thought the stability would let him spread his wings and soar but, lately, it feels like he’s watching his friends above him while he remains rooted to the ground.

“You’re doing well for yourself, too, Edamame,” Laurent nudges him out of his thoughts. As if sensing his downward spiral, Lucky nuzzles his hand.

“I don’t know about that,” Edamura dismisses. “I mean, I’m just a mechanic. It’s not exactly rocket science.”

“You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to be amazing.”

“Yeah, but you know. I’m just….”

“ _Just_ the backbone of our household?” Laurent stands from the desk chair and sits down on the bed next to him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “ _Just_ one of the kindest, cleverest, most hardworking people I’ve ever met–– and I was a conman for a long time, my dear soybean. I’ve met a lot of people.”

Edamura frowns, refusing to make eye contact. “Laurent….”

“Besides, there must be a reason why you decided to become a mechanic, right?” Laurent prompts. “And knowing you it was probably something noble like wanting to help the everyday person’s daily lives or something like that.”

“Ah, no. I mean, it is an important job, but that’s not why I like it.”

“So? Why then?”

Edamura shrugs. “Well, at first, it was one of the only options in prison. And then, I don’t know, I was good at it? The more I learned the more I fell in love with it.”

Laurent makes a curious noise.

“It’s like–– oh, it’s kind of similar to you and cons, I think.”

“How so?”

“Well, with engines it’s like––” Edamura waves his hands around. “It’s like, every part, every gear has a role. There are a lot of moving parts–– the pistons inside the cylinders, the crankshaft–– and all of it comes together and powers the car. Most people don’t know all the things going on inside their car’s engine. They just know that you press the gas pedal and it moves. But being a mechanic means….”

Edamura trails off as he leans back on his hands, Lucky abandoning his lap for Laurent’s.

“You get to see all the parts,” Laurent finishes for him. “You know how the car moves.”

“Just like you and your elaborate schemes, right?” Edamura bumps their shoulders together. “All of us were just moving parts, only you had the big picture.”

“Give yourself more credit, Edamame. I very frequently had to plan around you and your honorable streak. And you really surprised me, that first time around.”

“With Cassano?” Edamura chuckles. “I had _no idea_ what was going on back then.”

“Mm, didn’t stop you from nearly derailing the entire operation. Plus, you saved a man’s life. His son will grow up with his father present, all thanks to you.”

“That was––!” Edamura sputters. “Anyone would have done that! Salazar was a good dad, on the inside. And Tom deserved to have a parental figure to look up to.”

“Not just anyone would risk themselves like that for someone they’ve known for less than a week,” Laurent tries to explain to him. “You’re just–– You’re so––”

“What?” Edamura asks. “I’m what?”

“You’re so _good_ ,” Laurent laughs, sounding a bit frustrated. “You see so much good in the world. How are you so kind?”

Edamura literally can’t comprehend what Laurent just said for a few seconds. Good? _Him?_ No one has ever said that to him, about him. No one has ever thought that Makoto Edamura was _good_ , of all things. It’s almost laughable. Even before he had a criminal record, no one would have put Edamura’s name and the word “good” in the same sentence. He’s been struggling his whole life to prove that he’s good, honest. Fighting against all the odds and the evidence stacked against him and here’s Laurent, just giving him this admission like it’s nothing. Like it's a fact.

“I’m not good,” is all Edamura can say. “I’m not–– I’m _not_ ––”

“But you _are_ ,” Laurent looks at him, eyes blazing. “You’re so–– it’s why I picked you, for that first job. You have every reason to be bitter and jaded, but you’re just… not.”

“I am bitter,” Edamura says.

“Maybe,” Laurent allows, “But you don’t use it as an excuse to hurt people. You still do the right thing, every time. Like I said, I’ve had to plan around it enough times.”

Edamura takes a second to absorb that. He swallows thickly.

“Do you really think that highly of me?”

“My dear Makoto,” Laurent says, painfully gentle, “I think the world of you.”

Edamura inhales shakily. He doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

“It’s okay if you don’t believe it,” Laurent says eventually, standing. He deposits Lucky back into Edamura’s lap, giving both of them a parting pat on the head. “The world has given you enough reasons to doubt yourself.”

“Just know,” he says before leaving Edamura’s room, “that at least three people believe that you’re good. I hope that’s enough.”

* * *

Winter brings a chill, which brings maybe the only redeemable quality of big corporate owned coffee shops: seasonal drinks.

“I’m going to consume a peppermint mocha today if it _kills_ me,” Cynthia declares as she rounds up the other three for what she calls a “family coffee run.”

Edamura, who has a particular weakness for gingerbread lattes, goes without protest. Laurent offers to pay because he knows it’s easier to convince Edamura to pull off small cons when he’s on a sugar high. Abby drags her heels.

She frowns. “I’ll go as long as we’re not going to Starbucks.”

Of course, they go to Starbucks.

“Oh, hey Abby!” The barista–– a tall woman with dyed pink hair in box braids and a sunny smile–– waves as soon as they enter the coffee shop.

“Hey. Can I get an iced hazelnut latte and–– what do you want?”

Abby orders their drinks efficiently, handing over the money even as Laurent protests that today he was supposed to be “treating my lovely housemates.”

Abby grins. “Since you’re so bent on treating us, why don’t you pay for dinner?”

“Dinner?” Laurent repeats, falling right into her trap.

“Mm, there’s a new Korean barbecue place a couple blocks from home. Thanks Laurent.”

As they collect their drinks, the barista smiles at Abby, who swiftly picks her drink and makes a beeline for the nearest empty table. The four of them settle down. Edamura very strategically seats himself as far away from Laurent as possible, but Laurent still manages to hook their ankles together under the table. Edamura sends him a glare, but doesn’t bother pulling away.

“So,” Cynthia starts, with all the subtlety of a sledge hammer. “You know the barista?

“Yeah, she’s in one of my classes.”

Edamura, Laurent, and Cynthia exchange glances.

“She’s cool,” Abby says unprompted. She takes a sip from her drink.

No one says a word. Edamura has to consciously stop his jaw from dropping.

Abby notices the silence and looks up at them, scowling automatically. “What? Why are you all staring at me?”

“Your feelings towards other people typically range from _hatred_ to _ambivalence_ ,” Cynthia says. “But you just complimented her.”

“So?” Abby’s cheeks flush. “She’s–– she was nice to me, when we were paired together on a project. And I like her hair. Her freckles are cute.”

“Oh my god,” Edamura says.

“ _Love_ is in the air!” Laurent exclaims.

“That’s–– I literally only said she was cool, what the fuck.” Abby sneaks a glance over to the barista, who’s already looking in her direction. The barista waves. Abby squeaks.

“Holy shit, we’ve found her weakness,” Edamura mutters, eyes darting back and forth between the two in fascination. “Abby, look! She’s waving at you!”

“ _Stop it_ ,” Abby hisses, sliding down in her seat.

“Aww, are you shy, Abby?” Cynthia smiles. “I can go up there and talk you up, be your wingwoman.”

“Do _not_. She’s working, leave her alone!”

“Abby has a point. No one wants to be hit on while they're working.”

“Thank you, Edamame!”

“Which means you’ll just have to talk to her the next time you see her in class.”

“I’m not going to talk to her. We’re… just classmates. Acquaintances.”

“Edamame and I were mere acquaintances at one point, and look at us now! Cohabitating and drowning in domestic bliss!”

Edamura flips up his middle finger. Laurent blows him a kiss.

“You two aren’t exactly the model for a healthy relationship,” Cynthia points out.

Edamura snorts. “That’s because there is no relationship.”

“One day, Edamame. I’ll get you to fall for me one day.”

“Please stop threatening me.”

Edamura doesn’t hear about Abby’s barista after that day, but he does see her texting more often. He knows that he, Cynthia, and Laurent are the only people she’d regularly need to contact and he’s certain she doesn’t smile when she texts them. He doesn’t push the subject, but he does subtly leave a coupon for movie tickets on the kitchen counter, which disappears after Abby comes home.

* * *

“Where do you want to go next, my little soybean?”

Edamura stretches out fully on the couch, feet bumping Laurent’s thighs on the far end. Laurent shuffles absentmindedly through the papers he’s grading.

Edamura closes his eyes, thinking. “Maybe Seoul? Or Cape Town? But we should wait for Abby to graduate first.”

Laurent hums in agreement. “I think Cynthia is fond of Seoul. We visited a couple years back for a job. I’m thinking maybe an apartment this time, given the cost of living.”

“Missed the opportunity to say _con_ do,” Edamura murmurs absentmindedly.

Laurent chuckles, low and sweet. “Ah, I’m losing my touch. So, what do you think? A nice high-rise condo in Seoul?”

“I’m okay with that,” Edamura keeps his eyes closed, drifting off. “As long as we’re all together.”

There’s a pause in the shuffle of papers. Just before he falls asleep, he hears Laurent murmur, “Yes, as long as we’re all together.”

* * *

For all the years of build up, unresolved sexual tension, and thinly veiled innuendos, Edamura’s actual realization is a bit anticlimactic.

It just hits him one day, when he’s arguing with Laurent on what to cook for dinner.

“And _another thing_ — wait.” Edamura squints at Laurent. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Have been for the past couple years,” Laurent responds with a grin, “but thanks for finally noticing.”

“No, I knew you were flirting, but are you,” Edamura pauses for emphasis, “you know, _flirting._ ”

Abby— who has just walked into the kitchen— takes one look at the two of them and walks back out, snagging an approaching Cynthia on her way out.

“My little soybean, I’m not sure what you mean.If you’re asking if I’m flirting for fun, the answer is yes. But if you’re asking if I’m flirting because I’m in love with you, the answer is also yes.”

“I— flirting— _love?!”_

“Don’t make me repeat myself, darling. I think Cynthia’s recording from the other room and I’d rather not give her any more black mail material than she already has.”

“Why didn’t you say something?!” Edamura stands, chair making an awful scraping noise against the linoleum.

“I think we’ve established that I _have_ said something.” Laurent— the smug bastard— leans back, balancing on the back legs of his chair. Edamura hopes he falls over backwards. “I’ve made my feelings clear several times. In fact, I even proposed once.”

Edamura’s face flushes as the memories from Budapest come rushing back. “That was for a job! You always flirt with me on jobs!”

Laurent hums. “Mhm, I really should start separating work and play.”

Edamura stops himself from pointing out that he won’t have to because they’re really trying to live an honest life here but, well— oh, fuck it.

Edamura kneels down in front of Laurent, clapping his hands down on the other man’s knees so he’s sitting up straight, chair firmly balanced on all four legs. Laurent blinks at him, stunned, for a moment before his smirk is back in full force.

“Edamame, how forward of you! We’re in the kitchen, where any of our housemates could walk in on us!”

“Shut up.” Edamura leans forward, locking eyes with Laurent. “Do you mean it?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you serious about—“ Edamura falters. “Me. This isn’t just another joke?”

Laurent’s previously amused smirk melts into something softer, more genuine. He brings a hand up to cup Edamura’s face.

“I’m serious about you,” Laurent says, thumb sweeping gently over Edamura’s cheekbone. And then, in a devastating move, he adds, “More serious than I’ve ever been about anything, Makoto.”

“Fuck,” Edamura says, with feeling. “Fuck. Shit. I’m gonna kiss you now, okay? Fuck.”

Laurent’s answering smile is worth a million dollars, but Edamura doesn’t get to see it for long before he’s leaning up and slotting their mouths together, sighing into the kiss.

“Mm, finally,” Laurent whispers as they part. Then, with the same energy as a cat about to purposefully push a glass off a table, he says:

“You've just kissed number 9 on Interpol's most wanted list. _Con_ gratulations.”

“Awful. Literally awful.” Edamura stands, ripping himself out of Laurent’s grasp. Laurent is cackling and, if the muffled noises coming from the living room are any indication, so are Cynthia and Abby.

Edamura huffs, crossing his arms. “I changed my mind. We’re not doing this.”

“ _No!”_ Laurent launches himself out of his chair, still laughing, and wraps his arms around Edamura. “I’m kidding, my lovely soybean. My dear, sweet, precious Edamame.”

Edamura playfully shoves him away. “Too late, you blew it. I can’t believe our great romance lasted all of five minutes.”

“ _Edamame!”_ Laurent wails, still clinging even as Edamura dodges him.

Finally, Edamura relents and allows Laurent to drape himself over him, cooing all sorts of kinda-sweet, kinda-dirty nonsense in his ear. He peppers Edamura’s face with kisses, showering him with affection. It’s nice, if not a little annoying. Okay, maybe not annoying at all.

Cynthia hollers from just outside the kitchen asking if it’s safe to come in yet. Abby is no doubt coming up with a million ways to tease Edamura about this new development. Laurent still hasn’t let him go.

They’re happy.

(Three months later, Edamura comes home early because the small family owned garage he and Abby work at was bought out by some sleazy millionaire. He promptly fired the entire staff and plans to tear up the garage completely to build an overpriced brunch place.

“I have,” Laurent says to him, a few days later, “an _idea_.”

“Is it illegal?”

“ _Very_.”

Edamura sighs heavily. He gets up to set the ‘ _Days since last con’_ sign back to zero.)

**Author's Note:**

> megan’s wap verse: your honor im a freak bitch  
> edamura: damn if that was my defense maybe i wouldnt have gone to prison  
>   
> Ok orginally i planned to keep this in the drafts until case four came out but i know myself and i know if i dont post now it’ll just rot away buried in my computer files so… i hope you enjoyed my 8k self-indulgent found family fic 😄✨hopefully once we get more content ill be able to nail down their characterization a bit better 💕  
>   
> The title is from [Plot Twist by Niki.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yup3s8P1mA)  
>   
> I’m [xyloophones](https://xyloophones.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and [@_xylophones](https://twitter.com/_xylophones) on twitter! Come say hi!!


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